Deteriorate
by M.Avercroft
Summary: The mental fracture and slow break of Leon Kennedy's persona as the plaga within him begins to eat away at his pysche and devour his humanity...


-1

Deteriorate Pt I

Once you have had it, you know this type of day. You know it, and in fact, on a certain level, you know it better than you could ever want to. Really, nothing would be better than to forget entirely, to sit and tell yourself these things don't happen, they won't keep happening. It's too much of a pain in your ass to keep happening. But no, this is one of those days and the only good part is, you don't have to contend with it until later.

Every variable was making him twitch, only mentally at first, a slight nag in his steady head, but it doesn't stop there. Not on a day like this. His whole body retracted every so often in the annoyance. It wasn't just that the scene was monotonous. Kill after kill. Body after body, move this corpse, check this bookcase, put girl in box, shoot, shoot, everybody up, lets go. Mission the same, while still only having a limited idea of why he was here in the first place. But he could deal with that. Another zombie-esque villager lumbered close to him, moaning erratically, shot down with a click flick of the wrist and pull of the trigger.

It was more than that. Everything was ticking, grinding, eating away the balance of his nerves. Every dusty-blonde hair on the back of his neck seemed particularly aware to the slightest disturbance. His eyes were shifting, pale circles of blue glass, back and forth, checking erratically every surrounding even as the last of his enemies fell.

The slightly over-weight, middle-aged rotting animated corpse hit the ground with a mild thump, some bloody substance leaking from the gunshot in his forehead.

Flipping his hair back, and dusting the filth of combat from his dark gloves, Leon re-holstered the handgun, and turned to recheck the scenario, each corpse, one by one, systematic. He knew by now, dead didn't mean anything, taking a healthy stab at each one for finality's sake.

Driving the cool silver metal deep into the chest of cavity what once was a teenage girl, his shoulder's tingled tense and aching, nerves rapt, mind racing with no direct thought to cause it, but still, giving him pause. _...Why am I so off key?_ He shakes his head quickly, this was not his style. _It doesn't matter. They're dead._ He draws back the hilt, for a moment admiring the red splashed upon it, reminded that there was no soul behind that bloody mess.

"Hey man..."

The sound of silver embedding itself into wood audibly thunked just beside Luis' head, a nearby tree embedded near three inches by Leon's knife. His own weapon slipped out of his hand in shock, clattering to the ground as his hands proceeded to motion somewhat frantically at the sheer possibility of considerable damage that was narrowly evaded by dumb luck. His alarm was matched only by the cursing under his breath.

"Holy hell Leon! Watch it! I fight WITH you remember. On your side, compadre. JESUS."

Turning his eyes to his companion, the blonde nodded slow, turning back to his self-assigned routine, approaching to retrieve his knife with a swift tug and returning to his task at hand.

The soft tap of footsteps entreated the only the female presence they traveled with. Ashley, having hidden close nearby under order, now glancing around trying to ascertain what had passed.

"Man..." With a grumbling sigh, Luis regained what composure he flippantly decided to give himself, wiping the sweat from his brow, leaning down to retrieve his weapon and reload amidst his under breath comments.

"You, ruffian, what happened?" Hand on hip, she glowered down to Luis, her idea of greasy and classless wrapped in one fun, smart-aleck tag-along. Not that she really could judge, she was aware, she was the only one here really trapped in "tagging along."

"Hi missy." Luis cocked back the gun before slipping it back over a shoulder. "Nothing, Someone's just a little touchy." He spared no subtlety in casting an adverse glance in Leon's direction.

It was remarkable in Luis' valuable opinion, how quickly this girl's emotions changed. From instant blame and annoyance on his part to concern for their mutual leader.

"Leon?" She stepped slightly closer to the two, not caring to be too close to any of the bodies, trying not to think too hard on precisely how they got that way.

Finishing his last corpse, wiping the knife on its shirt, and slipping it back into its sheath, he stood turning back to his companions.

"I'm fine." There was a twitch. He barely noticed it himself, they shouldn't have at any rate. Checking several cartridges, he packed up his remaining gear, carefully and efficiently back into his pack, each item in a rightful place.

Luis glanced toward the leader of their motley bunch conveyed something akin to concern, but bordered on suspicion as dark eyes locked on Leon.

"What's with you today?"

"Nothing."

"...you're too irritable," mumbling, he trailed into some self-intended dialogue involving "stupid Americans" and "the shit I go through..." but his counterparts seemed to barely notice.

For once the girl said little, still on looking, seemingly uncertain as things were on those days.

Blue eyes locked onto her chastisingly for just a moment, dealing with this day after day, how many times would her have to keep this up?

"Don't give me that look... it's just another damned day."

She didn't spare a word, instead opting at the threat of her own peace of mind to pull a map from her pack, on some inclination to determine their next agenda.

Sighing, the American agent proceeded to explain their next course of movement, mentally scorning himself, the outcome of the day, his own barely bridled annoyance._ When is this shit ever gonna be over?_

Days like these... aren't even worth going through.


End file.
